Aconitum Napellus
by TeddyBeare12
Summary: Beautiful but toxic. Look but do not touch. A delicate warning that an enemy is near. Like a weed, it returns. Blue ignores the signs, inviting Dust into his life once more. It's dazzling at first, but poison's properties never change.
1. Notes

"Aconitum Napellus

(n.)

Beautiful but deadly. Wonderful but untouchable. Symbolizes the presence of a potential enemy."

Hiya! As much as I despise notes at the beginning of a story, I feel that these are important and probably necessary for both my sake and yours. That said...

**This story will contain:**

-Abusive relationships

-Emotional abuse

-Self-Harm

-Panic Attacks

-Alcoholism

-Cheating

So uh yeah. It's gonna be a wild ride. I hope you guys are ready. Or maybe it would be better if you aren't. That'll make it more interesting :D


	2. Re-Introduction

Like the start of most stories, we will proceed to introduce our main character.

Blue was an incredibly ordinary skeleton monster, all things considered. Perhaps he could be considered slightly more energetic than most other beings, but that changed little in his life other than the fact that he got bored painfully fast.

Usually, he had plenty to keep himself entertained, but that was before monsters came to the surface. Frankly, the surface wasn't nearly as appealing as Blue had thought it would be. In the underground, things were mind rottingly routine, but at least Blue had things that he could depend on. His brother, for example, was never around anymore. Underground, his brother was around every corner, but that had slowly worn off as they spent more time on the surface. His brother made his own life. He got his own job. Pursued his own interests. It was wonderful, and Blue was happy for him, but...

There was a period while on the surface when Stretch, Blue's brother, was arguably even more protective and clingy than when they were in the underground, but even Blue wouldn't blame him for that. It had been an extremely difficult time for the both of them, arguably traumatic, but, like everything else, it had passed, and they had moved on. Life goes on. The world keeps turning.

Despite the bore of most surface activities, even Blue would admit that the people and monsters that were on the surface were absolutely fascinating. As it would turn out, there are an innumerable amount of other versions of himself and his friends that exist on the surface. Their likeness is uncanny and, frankly, a bit frightening, but Blue couldn't say that the idea of alternate universes hadn't crossed his mind before. He'd simply never expected for those universes to be in much closer contact than he'd ever thought possible. As in: within the same universe.

Frankly, Blue assumes that the clashing of the multiverse probably has something to do with some of his "alternate versions" that he had befriended. One of his friends, Ink, was quite peculiar. He was absolutely obsessed with the multiverse and the minutea of each and every universe within it. It was an admirable passion, but Ink was quite unconventional about it. It would seem that most of the people that he was "friends" with were only let within his inner circle because he was interested in them, not because he cared about them, a fact that is quite disturbing to Blue. More disturbingly, however, Blue has caught him guzzling paint on more than one occasion.

Another friend, Error, seemed to have quite the opposite ambition. He was absolutely obsessed with the complete eradication of all unnecessary alternate versions of himself. Freaky, obviously, but understandable. Blue was definitely upset when he was thrown into this new world where there are infinite versions of himself. He, however, seemed to take a more friendly approach than that of the other. Error, all in all, was a fairly nice monster, albeit extremely erratic. They'd met when, on a whim, Blue had attended a knitting class. Throughout their friendship, he had found himself deeply regretting saying some things. Error was quite terrifying when upset.

A new development, one that Blue is completely supportive of, is the growing feelings between the two opposites. Blue had always heard that opposites attract, but never had he thought that people on literal opposite ends of the spectrum could fall for each other. The more he thought about it, though, there's no such thing as opposites. Without contrast, there would be nothing at all. Every day needs its night.

Blue had also come to know a version of himself, who simply goes by Sans, who acts exactly like his brother. He was an absolute lazy asshole who incessantly made awful puns. He was also, however, loyal to the end and always there to cheer up a friend. Closed off, sure, but who isn't? Blue, admittedly, found himself quite drawn to this counterpart if for no other reason aside from the fact that he was reminded of his brother.

Yet another version, Red, was similar to Sans but much more rude and standoffish. Blue can't say that he blames him, though. Apparently their underground was much less friendly than his. If possible, Red was even more closed off than Sans. Not a word asked, not a word uttered. Once you got to know him, though, Red had a rather unique sense of humor. Cruel, sure, but it was humor nonetheless. Unfortunately for Blue, his friendliness had lead him to be the butt of many a prank.

Lately, Sans and Red had been seeming to grow closer as well. Perhaps it was the fact that they were so similar? After all, people generally say that you have to have things in common in order to get along. The more Blue thinks about it, though, he realizes that even similarities house differences. Without contrast, there would be nothing at all. No two stars are exactly alike.

There were many more of Blue's fascinating selves hiding out there on the surface, he was sure of it. He'd just yet to meet them. Frankly, Blue considered it a bit of an adventure; going out everyday in hopes of meeting someone new and interesting, the start of a new friendship, _a checkmark on the list_. It was aggravating how little people Blue had met. He'd been on the surface for almost a year now. He should know more than four new versions of himself and his brother. With resentment, Blue ponders the fact that the only reason he hadn't met more monsters already was because...

The vibration of his phone jolted Blue out of his reminiscing. Looking at the clock, he realized that he'd been lying on his bed for almost an hour longer than usual, the piercing sound of his alarm bouncing off the walls and through the house. Not a wink of sleep was had, however. Hesitantly, he picked up the small object from his bedside table and turned it over.

There, on the smudged screen, was an unfamiliar number. Blue scanned it over once more but didn't recognize it in the slightest. His eyes dropped, then, to the message. Within the first few words, Blue's heart had completely stopped, and he felt the panic set in.

His phone must be glitching.

That's the only reasonable explanation.

But, as Blue unlocks his phone and goes into his messenger app, the message reads the same as before.

There, on the smudged screen, was a message from someone that he'd hoped he'd never have to speak to again.

In complete and utter disbelief, Blue read:

"Hello, Blue. It's Dust. I'm sorry to contact you in such a shady way, but I noticed that you've blocked me everywhere. I completely understand, of course. I deserved that. I was an awful person to you, and you deserve so much better. I wanted to let you know that I just got out of my last therapy session. I'm better now, I promise. So much better. I'd like to speak to you again, Blue, if only to apologize. Please, give me a chance."

Slamming his phone back down onto the table, Blue moves as far away from the words as possible. He moves until his back hits the wall, drawing out a yelp and causing him to curl up further. With shaking hands, Blue pulls out his pocketknife and fiddles with the blade. He clicks the weapon out, then carefully pushes it back into place, each motion helping him to focus.

_Click_.

Dust doesn't deserve to see him again.

_Click_.

Blue shouldn't have to deal with that.

_Click_.

He'd already had his fair share, thanks.

_Click_.

But maybe...

_Click_.

Just maybe...

_Click_.

Dust really had changed.

_Click_.

Doesn't everyone deserve a second chance?

_Click_.

Blue should at least hear him out.

_Click_.

Right?

**_Click_****.**

Shoving the pocketknife back into its usual place in his pant's pocket, Blue gingerly uncurls himself and crawls back towards his bedside table. Towards his phone. Towards the message. He reads it over once more, just to make sure that it's real. That it really is Dust. That he really wants to talk and really has changed...

And, he decides, the message is real. It really is Dust. He really wants to talk. Blue can't say whether Dust has changed or not, but that fact is the exact reason why they're going to talk, right? It only makes sense. This is the only choice that makes sense.

And, like the fool he is, Blue responded:

"Okay."


	3. Bombshell

After Blue sent his note of approval to the other, he set his phone down and decided that it would be best to get ready for the day.

He stripped off his pajamas and replaced them with his usual outfit. Despite the fact that they were now on the surface and there was no need for a royal guard, the armor still made Blue feel special, and that's what really matters, right? Next, he carefully tied his scarf around his neck, a job that he had become rather adept at over the years. That said, Blue still messed it up more than his fair share of days, and today was definitely one of those days. Perhaps it was simply the way that Blue's hands were shaking that messed him up, or, perhaps, it was simply just a bad scarf day.

After a few desperate tries, Blue managed to get his scarf tied in a way so that it would at least stay around his neck. It wasn't the prettiest scarf he had ever tied, but it was the thought that counted. Besides, he couldn't see the scarf around his neck during the day, so it's not like he'd be the one suffering, anyways.

At this time was when Blue was reminded that he would potentially be meeting Dust today, and there was a brief moment where he considered ripping the scarf off of his neck and tying it until it was perfect or until his fingers bled.

It passed.

Blue sighed, looking away from the dirty bathroom mirror and leaning onto the counter. It was good enough, he supposed.

Of course, after dress came a hearty breakfast! The biology behind whether or not magic skeletons actually require food is indefinite to say the least, but that certainly didn't stop Blue from being the best cook he could be. Tacos were his specialty, but generally not considered a breakfast food. To counteract this, Blue makes the taco of breakfast: an omelet!

With a practiced skill, he reached into various cabinets and pulled out a pan and any necessary seasonings. He then turned on the stove, flames roaring to life underneath the metal pieces. As the pan began to heat up, Blue made his way to the fridge and acquired the main ingredients: eggs, milk, and taco toppings! Before doing anything further with the food, Blue removed his gloves and washed his hands, flicking some of the excess water onto the pan. It sizzled, indicating that the pan was at a high enough temperature to begin cooking.

Through an extreme amount of determination, Blue was able to create an only slightly lopsided and gooey omelet. At least it was edible and the house was still standing. It was certainly a success in his book, all things considered.

He carefully cut into the protein rich breakfast and shoveled a bite into his mouth. It was an absolute masterpiece collage of flavors. The egg mixed perfectly with the flavors of tomato and lettuce, and the taco seasoning added an extra layer of flavor that made the entire dish just that much more appealing.

He'd had better.

Scrapping the leftover omelet into the garbage can under the counter, Blue cleaned up his cooking mess. Through force of habit, he left the kitchen how he found it. He put the pan back where it had came from and reorganized the utensil drawer. Well, he actually left it much cleaner than before, but small details are irrelevant.

Blue looked around at the spotless kitchen and frowned. With the kitchen clean, breakfast had, and himself dressed, he could think of nothing more to do to justify not checking his phone. Sighing, he reluctantly made his way back to his bedroom to see whether or not Dust had responded. Blue assumed that he would have. It had been nearly 45 minutes since Blue left the bedroom to get ready, and Dust was always prompt to respond to messages.

Begrudgingly, Blue settled himself onto his messy bed once more and turned on his phone. On the screen was a notification from the same number as before, and Blue felt his heart skip a beat. He unlocked his phone and quickly went to read the message.

It read:

"Thank you so much! I promise, I'm going to try to make things right. Would it be possible for us to meet at that one cafe? You know the one, I'm sure. We could meet for an hour or so this evening if that works?"

Blue was almost terrified by how polite Dust was being. It was an interesting contrast from the way that he usually acted, and Blue was unsure as to quite how he felt about that. It felt... wrong. Despite this, Blue responded to the message with just as much friendliness as the other.

Shortly and sweetly, he sent:

"Sure! What time?"

While waiting for a response, Blue intended to go and attempt to fix his scarf once more, but another message came through before he could even set his phone down.

Prompt as always, Dust's message read:

"6?"

As much as Blue wished he could say that he had plans, he was free. Not that it would have really matter if he wasn't free. Dust would simply figure out the soonest time and date of which Blue was free and schedule a meeting then. It was proactive and efficient. It was also disconcerting and creepy.

"Okay," he responded, putting down his phone. He hoped that he wouldn't have to pick it up again until the time had arrived for him to leave.

Blue glimpsed at the clock on his bedside table. The time read: 1:21 pm. He sighed and laid back onto his bed, closing his eyes. For a moment, he struggled to get at least slightly comfortable before giving up and allowing his mind to wander.

Dust had mentioned a cafe... Well, perhaps it would be more appropriate to call it the cafe. It was an important landmark for the two of them. It had served as the location for more than one event that Blue was unlikely to ever forget. Blue found it interesting that Dust wanted to meet there of all places. Frankly, if Dust _really_ wanted to leave the past behind... _he would never go to that place **ever** again_.

That's besides the point, of course. That was where they were meeting, and that was that. It's not like it really mattered anyways, Blue tried to justify. It was just a place. A change in scenery won't affect what happens. He can only hope that their hot cocoa is as good as he remembers it being.

Blue frowned and sat up on the bed, rubbing his eyes. What he really needed, he decided, was something completely and utterly mind numbing. Of course, there's nothing better to accomplish this task than television! Blue forced himself onto his feet and trudged into the living room.

The room was fairly bland, but it had everything a monster or human could require. There was a fancy massage chair (that Blue was still unsure as to how Stretch had acquired) near the center of the room as if to highlight its greatness. It was, by far, the nicest thing they had in their house. Aside from that, there was their old couch from the underground. It was pushed against a wall, stained and worn, but Blue still loved it dearly, if for nothing else than the memories. The main attraction of the living room, of course, was the about 48 inch widescreen TV sitting on a table across from the couch. It was angled just perfectly so that anyone in the living room or the kitchen could see the screen.

All in all, their house was tolerable. Hopefully, once Blue was able to land a steady job with slightly higher pay, they would be able to make their house feel less... empty. There were no pictures or bookshelves or anything of the sort that makes a house truly feel like home, and, to Blue at least, that's unacceptable.

Grabbing the remote from the table, Blue plopped onto the couch and stretched out. Even so, his body didn't fill the entire couch, and he grumbled at his quite lackluster height. With remote in hand, Blue turned on the television and began to flip through the different channels. He got to one channel and noticed that the name of the movie matched that of one that Ink had recommended to him. At the same time, however, Error had told him that it wasn't worth a second of his time.

Deciding to consider it, Blue left it on the current channel and placed the remote on the floor. It didn't take more than fifteen minutes for him to figure out exactly how the movie was going to end, but he supposed that the characters and their relationships were still interesting either way.

That said, it didn't take long for Blue fall asleep. As the movie crawled forward, his eyes drooped shut, and the background noise lulled him into a peaceful rest. Well, as peaceful a rest as one can have when they're going to meet someone who they _really_ don't want to see.

Blue was only awoken when he heard the front door slam, causing him to sit up almost immediately and look for the source of the disruption of his sleep.

"Hey, Blue," a voice casually called, and Blue perked up instantly.

"Papyrus!" he responded happily. If Stretch is home, then it must be around 5:30, Blue figures. That means he'd be leaving to meet Dust in about twenty minutes. He cringed at the thought. "How was work?" Blue asked, wishing to distract himself once more.

Stretch entered the room and took a seat in the massage chair, turning it on as Blue handed him the remote. "It was alright, I guess," he said with a shrug, the chair vibrating and making his voice tremble a bit. "Not much happened today, so it was pretty boring. I prefer it when things explode."

Blue snorted at the last comment. "Yeah, it was about the same here," he sighed, sinking into the couch.

"Oh?" Stretch said as he flipped through the channels. "Didn't you go to work?"

Blue paused for a moment before answering. He had to explain incredibly carefully. "I didn't sleep well last night," he shrugged. "I felt like crap when I woke up this morning, so I stayed home. Maybe I have one of those human 'colds' Alphys was talking about."

"I'm not sure that's how that works, Blue," Stretch laughed. "Are you at least feeling better now?"

"I sure am!" Blue said happily.

"Good," Stretch responded absently, still flipping through channels. There were only so many. He must have been through all of them at least once by now.

"Are you going to decide on a channel or not?" Blue teased, watching as the screen continued to flash.

"I'm trying! There's just so many options!"

Eventually, he settled on a cooking show; it was one of Blue's favorites, and, frankly, Blue suspects that that's why he picked it.

"That's raw!" one of the judges shouted from the TV, throwing the food at the chef. "Are you trying to _kill_ me?!"

Both Blue and Stretch chuckled at this and only continued to laugh as the conversation between chef and judge slowly devolved into senseless fighting.

"My mother cooks better than you!"

"She can't if she made you!"

"How _dare_ you?!"

At this point, the brothers were wheezing and trying not to fall out of their respective chairs.

"Papyrus, holy shit!" Blue said through laughter. "This is the best episode I've ever seen!"

Struggling to speak, Stretch responded, "That judge looks like he's about to have a stroke!"

Still laughing, Blue caught sight of the time and realized that it was probably time for him to leave. This stopped the laughter rather quickly, and he reluctantly stood and retrieved his phone from his bedroom, pocketing it without checking the notifications.

The cafe was quite nearby and the whole "driving" thing was still a little bit sketchy for him, so Blue decided to walk there. He grabbed a set of keys by the door and called to Stretch: "I'll be back later!"

A confused tone answered him back. "Huh? Where are you going?"

"To a cafe!"

"Alone?"

"No, I'm meeting a... friend!"

"Which one?"

Pretending that he hadn't heard this question, Blue quickly opened the door, shouted: "Bye, Papyrus!", and slammed it shut behind him.

He walked quicker than normal until he was convinced that enough time had passed that Stretch wasn't going to try and follow him. About thirty seconds was enough. Once the half-panic passed, Blue nervously continued along the sidewalk, trying his best to enjoy the nice, temperate weather despite the sick feeling that was steadily growing in his stomach.

The cooler temperatures and crisp air that signified the start of fall seemed to attract a fair amount of people as there were more than usual out for an evening walk. It made the walk a bit awkward, having to wave or say hello as you passed people. Blue was typically a friendly person and didn't mind such actions, but today was certainly an exception.

"Hey!" greeted one person as they crossed paths.

"Hi," Blue mumbled, head down.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed the beautiful patch of slightly wilting purple flowers and realized that he must be close. Every time that Blue had walked to the cafe, he'd stopped to look at the flowers. A sign next to them always stood, clearly stating: "DO NOT TOUCH. POISONOUS". Frankly, it made Blue wonder why such dangerous flowers were allowed to be put next to a busy sidewalk, but they were so beautiful that he didn't really mind.

Within a few more minutes of walking, Blue had arrived at the small cafe. He looked up at the faded sign above the store which read: "Latte Lovers". It wasn't the most popular coffee shop in the city, but, at least in Blue's opinion, it was definitely the best. The workers were nice and polite, and the entire establishment was always kept extremely clean. Even the bathrooms! Not to mention that their hot cocoa was absolutely delicious!

Blue glanced at his phone and frowned; it was already 6:07... he was late. He peaked through the windows for a moment, seeing if he could tell if Dust was already there although he was sure that he already knew the answer. Taking a deep breath, Blue pushed open the door, the dangling of a bell alerting others to his arrival.

"Welcome to Latte Lovers!" one of the cheery workers shouted from behind the counter.

"Thank you!" Blue responded, forcing a smile.

"Blue?" another voice called, one that he recognized, and he quickly turned around.

Walking towards him was a rather disheveled looking skeleton monster. He was wearing a jacket and a pair of jeans. His hood, like always, was up, casting a shadow on his face that only emphasized the dark circles under his eyes, making him seem even more intimidating. His eyebrows were slightly upturned, but his lips quirked up once they made eye contact. Blue instantly looked away.

"Dust," he said, wringing his hands. "Sorry I'm late."

The other only smiled. "Don't worry about it! Do you wanna sit down?" he gestured towards the empty table, one chair haphazardly pulled out, indicating that Dust had already been seated before Blue got there.

"Yeah, sure!" Blue said with a nod, hoping that he didn't seem as nervous as he felt.

He began to walk towards the furthest chair before Dust cut in front of him, causing him to falter a bit. To his surprise, the other had pulled out the chair, gesturing with a smile for him to sit down. With a shaky smile back, Blue sat, only flinching slightly when Dust pushed the chair closer to the table for him.

"Thank you," Blue stuttered awkwardly, adjusting his scarf.

"No problem," Dust responded as he sat in his chair, scooting closer.

For a while, neither of them spoke, tension filling the air. The more the seconds passed, the harder it was for Blue to sit there as Dust's eyes continually scanned him, looking up and down. It was almost as if he were trying to memorize Blue's features... to see if anything had changed. Blue just nervously kept his eyes down, only occasionally glancing up. After about a minute of this, he sighed, opening his mouth ask some shallow question like "how have you been?", but Dust cut him off, blurting out the absolute _last_ thing Blue wanted to hear.

"I still love you."


	4. Regret

It took Blue a few moments to process what Dust had just said. For another few moments, Blue was convinced that he had heard Dust wrong, but the words had been clear as day. In the last few moments before he spoke, Blue told himself that Dust was just messing with him. That there was no way that he could really mean that when he surely never meant it before. When he spoke, however, the only thing he could think of was how awful it was of Dust to say something like that.

"That's not funny," Blue said, tensing up.

Dust's eyes widened at Blue's response. "I... I'm not joking," he insisted.

"I said it's not funny!" Blue said, his voice cracking and eyes locking with Dust's.

"And I said," Dust started steadily, not breaking eye contact. "That I'm not joking."

Blue's mind was a mess, and it took almost everything he had to not flip out his pocket knife to mess with it. It was a coping mechanism that he found many people were not comfortable being around, especially when they didn't know or understand you. He was even more sure, however, that Dust would _not_ be okay with it. All the same, the lack of its comforting clicks only made matters worse.

_He doesn't love me._

_He was supposed to apologize._

_We were supposed to move on._

_What does he want from me?_

_Is this a trick?_

_Is he trying to trick me?_

_Why would he do this?_

_Does he _hate_ me?_

_Am I judging too soon?_

_I said I'd give him a second chance._

_Second chance._

_Second chance._

_Second chance._

Taking a deep breath, Blue managed to force out the words he wanted to, "Why did you want to meet me?"

He could almost hear Dust roll his eyes, but the other's voice didn't reveal any annoyance, and was, rather, filled with seriousness. "To tell you that I want you back."

"Well, did you consider _my_ feelings?" Blue asked, trying to tread carefully. His hands were shaking.

"Of course I did!" Dust exclaimed, leaning forward.

"What if I don't want you, then?" Blue blurted.

There was a moment of silence where neither spoke. Blue could hardly believe that he'd actually said it. Firstly, he felt a rush of relief. He'd expressed how he felt, and that's something to be proud of. Secondly, he felt embarrassment. As amazing as it is to communicate, he had not been planning on saying that out loud, and the look of shock and disappointment on Dust's face only made things worse. Lastly, Blue could feel _fear_ wash over him. The atmosphere was becoming steadily more tense, and, more than anything else, Blue just wanted to be at home with his brother. He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't have lied to Stretch. He should have said "no", and stayed home.

Dust's voice broke him out of his spiral.

"I've changed." He sounded desperate. "I swear I have. I've been clean since rehab. I have healthy coping mechanisms now, I really do. I learned a lot about myself in therapy, and I'm sorry for what I did. I'm sorry, okay? I'm really, really sorry."

Blue watched, dumbfounded as Dust continued to rant on.

"I've never met anyone else like you, Blue. I really haven't. You're perfect in everyway. No one can replace you. Please," he begged, "give me another chance." Dust reached forward, clasping Blue's hand tightly.

Blue flinched upon the contact and pulled away on instinct. He felt guilty, however, once he saw the hurt look on Dust's face, though. Maybe... maybe he really had changed.

"Blue, _please_."

The smaller skeleton watched, horrified, as the other sunk further and further into himself, wrapping his arms around himself.

"_Please_. You're all I have."

Blue felt his eyes well with tears, and his hands started to twitch. He didn't want to be with Dust again. He really, really didn't. He was afraid of what would happen if he agreed. He was also afraid, however, of what would happen if he didn't. Wouldn't it be cruel to say no? It really did seem like Dust had changed. Besides, who was Blue to deny someone a second chance? Isn't that what _everyone_ deserves?

His head filled with an impossible number of "what if"s.

_What if he really has changed?_

_What if he hasn't?_

_What if my rejection puts him over the edge again?_

_What if my acceptance puts _me_ over the edge again?_

_What if something happens?_

_What if I can't do it?_

_What if I can't handle it?_

_What if I blow it?_

_What if _he_ blows it?_

_What if I said no?_

_What if I said_ "yes."

"What?" Dust asked, leaning his elbows onto the table.

Not fully processing what was happening, Blue repeated himself: "Yes."

Dust leaned even further forward, his eyebrows raising hopefully. "You... you want to try again?"

"Yes."

The taller skeleton smiled widely, grabbing Blue's hand and squeezing it tightly. "You won't regret it, I promise! I'll be the best me I can be! All for _you_!"

In his absent state of mind, Blue didn't pull out of his grasp. He nodded, idly picking at a coffee ring on the table as his mind wandered. How long had they been apart for before now? How long had Dust been wanting to say this? How long would this last?

Stretch was probably worried. He should go back home. He should get up and go back home. _Now_.

"Do you want me to get you a coffee or something?" Dust asked, still excitedly holding Blue's hand.

Blue shook his head and looked up at the other. "No, I should probably go home. Papyrus will be worried."

"Oh."

Blue couldn't help the shiver that ran up his spine at the tone in Dust's voice. Rather than sounding disappointed or upset, he sounded annoyed.

"Did you walk or drive here?" Dust asked, and Blue dismissed his previous thoughts.

"I walked," he said, but as he looked out the window now, he noticed that it had gotten quite a bit darker. That could be a bit of a problem.

"Do you want me to drive you home?" Dust offered.

Blue considered the offer. He considered which way would be safer and which way he would be more comfortable. Walking, he thought, would be better for both aspects. The meaning behind those thoughts quickly diminished, however, at the thought of having to walk home after a day like this.

"Could you, please?" Blue asked carefully. "I would really appreciate it."

A small smile spread on Dust's face. "Of course," he said, getting up. He held out his hand for Blue to take once more, and Blue hesitated. Feeling bad when Dust's smile faded a bit, he slowly took the other's hand. He instantly felt Dust's grip tighten, and he rose from the seat.

Dust all but dragged him to the car, opening and closing the door for Blue with a smile. He then moved to the driver's side and started the car with a sputter.

It was the same car that Dust had always had, but the inside seemed to be a little bit cleaner. There was less trash thrown haphazardly onto the seats, and Dust had finally gotten his cracked windshield replaced. It still had the potent smell of old fast food and alcohol, but, frankly, it had smelled that way for so long that Blue was convinced that it had smelled that way when Dust bought it.

Dust turned on his lights and shifted the car into drive. "Off we go!" he said.

The car ride would probably be a total of three minutes long, but Blue knew that Dust would find a way to include as much conversation as he could, even if the words were completely meaningless.

"So, how have you been?" Dust asked, temporarily flicking his eyes in Blue's direction.

Blue thought carefully before answering, afraid of how Dust would react. "I've been... alright, I suppose," he settled on. There was a pause. "How have you been?"

"I've been absolutely peachy," Dust said, and Blue couldn't decide if he was being sarcastic or not. "I guess that therapy and rehab were good, too, but they were incredibly frustrating. I hate when people think they can just _change_ me."

Blue sank into the seat, wishing that Dust would stop speaking.

"It was... helpful," he continued. "I definitely feel more stable, and I've, for sure, got more healthy coping mechanisms now, so that's nice."

Frankly, Blue couldn't tell if Dust was happy with how things had gone, and it terrified him.

"Of course, I would never _willingly_ do that ever again," Dust said with a laugh. A moment later, however, he mumbled something about "fucking nosy neighbors."

Blue kept his mouth shut, desperately trying not to cry. He watched the now empty sidewalk as they drove and wished that the ride would just be over.

Dust glanced towards the other. "Hey, are you alright? You're... quieter than normal."

Flinching, Blue gave a forced smile. "Oh, yeah, I'm perfectly okay!" he lied. "I'm just tired, you know? I didn't sleep well last night." He hoped that he was convincing.

"Ah, I see," Dust said, tone icy. "I hope you sleep better tonight, then."

"Yeah... me too," Blue responded.

They turned down the street where Blue's house resided, and Blue's eyes widened as he realized that he hadn't had to tell Dust where to go. It must have somehow slipped his mind until now, but he doesn't know how he could forget something so significant.

"You still remember where I live?" he asked, but it was really more of a statement.

It took Dust a moment to answer. "Yeah."

"That's... cool," Blue said, trying to sound cheerful.

Dust only hummed in response.

He pulled the car into Blue's driveway and put it into park. Blue started unbuckle and get out of the car, but Dust stopped him.

"Unblock me," he said.

Blue faltered for a moment. "...what?"

Dust rolled his eyes. "Unblock me, stupid. How else am I supposed to text you?"

"Oh," Blue managed. "Right. Sorry."

"Text you later, then," Dust said as Blue hurriedly opened the door and stepped into the driveway.

"Yeah," Blue said, shutting the door. He gave a quick wave and walked as fast as he could to the front door. It took him a few seconds to get it unlocked because his hands were shaking so badly, but he eventually slid the key in the lock and opened the door. It was shut and locked in record time.

"I'm home!" Blue croaked. He could hear the sound of the TV from the living room.

"Welcome back," Stretch called. "Did you have fun?"

"...yeah," Blue said as he poked his head into the living room. "Have you eaten?" he asked.

"Nope," Stretch drawled, popping the p.

Blue groaned and made his way into the kitchen. "You're so lazy!"

"Aww, thanks, bro."

"Can you at least help me?" Blue said, pulling mac-n-cheese mix from the pantry and frowning. His mind buzzed uncomfortably as he tried to read the instructions on the box. He managed to make out a few lines before giving up. It would have to do.

"Blue... think about it. Do you _really_ want _me_ in the kitchen?" Stretch asked.

Blue set the box down on the counter and opened a cabinet, looking for a suitably sized pot. He thought for a moment about Stretch's question and figured he made a good point. "Just don't distract me," he grumbled in response.

Stretch let out a laugh. "Can do!"

Setting the pot on the stove and turning up the heat, Blue opened the faucet and began to take off his gloves. He had just placed the second glove onto the counter when his phone buzzed. With a moment's hesitance, Blue took his phone from his pocket and turned it on. His appetite immediately disappeared at the sight of the text.

"Thank you for giving me another chance. It'll be worth it," it read. "Now, unblock my other number already."

Blue frowned and placed his phone onto the counter, opting not to respond. He returned to the running faucet and stuck his hands underneath the water. His eyes locked onto his arms. The criss-cross scars stood out on the otherwise smooth surface. The longer he stared, the harder it was to look away. He thought to his pocket knife, and could feel his arms start to itch. He considered for a moment, then shook his head. Not worth it. Blue forced his eyes away from the scars and finished washing his hands.

He then took the pot and placed it under the stream of water, his eyes once again darting to his arms as it filled. They certainly were ugly. It was a good thing that he wore his gloves or everyone would judge him. Hell, he would judge him.

He sighed, and his mind clouded. It really had been quite the day.

A meeting with Dust.

The rekindling of a relationship.

Painful, stinging regret.

All thanks to his complete and utter spinelessness.

Blue glanced down to the scars again, and he made a decision.

He dumped the water out of the pot and placed it into the drying rack. He then threw the mac-n-cheese box back into the pantry.

Grabbing his gloves, he passed through the living room and went down the hall to his bedroom. He closed the door behind him and locked it. He went through the actions as if they were routine.

Blue pulled out the pocket knife and instinctively flipped out the blade.

Expression blank, he brought the blade down to his arm.

Flecks of white scattered themselves around him, and, with one clean slice, red began to flow.

The sting startled him; it felt different from how he remembered it, but euphoria washed over him all the same.

For a few amazing seconds, a smile resided on Blue's face, and then regret creeped in.

"Oh no," he said. "Oh no."

He threw the knife across the room, and it clanked as it hit the floor.

His arm stung, and he panicked for a moment.

"What did I do?" he asked desperately, praying that this wasn't real.

He'd been doing so well.

"What did I _do_?!" His voice cracked as he stumbled into the bathroom and desperately tried to stop the bleeding.

He held tissue to the laceration as tears began to drop from his eyes. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck is wrong with me?"

After a few minutes, the bleeding slowed to almost a stop. Blue flushed the dirtied tissues down the toilet and splashed water on his face. The face in the mirror that looked back was all too familiar. He then hesitantly looked down at the damage. There was a large divot in the smooth bone now, the newly exposed layer of bone a pearly white. Flinching, he looked away again. He'd certainly had worse, but this wasn't good.

He sighed, trying not to cry again. _I should tell Papyrus_, he thought. _I've been doing so well, though... He'd be so disappointed._

Blue's eyes settled on the gloves resting on the bed, and he froze.

Grabbing one, he slipped the injured arm into it.

_I'll save him the trouble_, Blue thought with an unsteady smile, examining the concealing piece of clothing. _I just won't do it again. Then, it won't even matter._

He slipped the other glove on and took a deep breath.

Quietly, Blue opened his door and stepped out into the hall. His steps were a little shaky, but he continued to walk forward anyways, hoping that they would get steadier as he went. He entered the living room, the television still on, Stretch's eyes glued to it. With a sigh, Blue crossed in front of the television to sit down, effectively catching Stretch's attention.

"What happened to dinner?" he asked as he watched Blue place himself on the couch.

Blue gave him a tired look, but tried to smile anyway. "I have a cold."


	5. Bittersweet

The next day, Blue woke up, his head aching. After all, not much sleep had been had the night before. He'd simply sat in bed, eyes closed, unable to shut off his mind. At about two in the morning, he'd given up on sleeping and, instead, proceeded to unblock Dust on everything he could remember which, admittedly, took quite a long time. Dust had known about every account on every website, and he had tried to contact him through all of them more than once before Stretch finally made Blue block him.

Shaking his head slightly, Blue shoved the covers off of himself and slung his legs out of bed. He quickly grabbed the blue gloves from the bedside table, slipping them on. He then changed from his pajamas into his usual clothes, moving to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He splashed water on his face, being careful to avoid looking in the mirror. He could already tell, today was not a good mental health day.

Blue sighed and made his way to the kitchen, where his brother greeted him.

"Heya, Blue!" he said from the couch. "You're going to work today, I assume?"

Blue hesitated before responding. "I guess so."

"Are you feeling better than last night?"

"...mostly."

Blue pulled at his gloves and passed in front of the television. He pulled out a box of sugary cereal and a bowl, pouring the unhealthy mix and not bothering with milk or a spoon. Sighing, he sat down on the couch next to his brother, watching as Stretch flipped through channels, never settling on one for more than thirty seconds. He dug his hands into the bowl of cereal in front of him and shoveled it in his mouth.

"Ew." Stretch grimaced. "You aren't going to use… ya know… a spoon?"

"Nope," Blue mumbled through bites. "You aren't going to… ya know… choose a channel?"

Stretch laughed. "Not until you use a spoon."

"I guess we're watching every channel this morning, then," Blue said with a smirk.

He continued to shovel the cereal into his mouth, hoping that his gloves were cleaner than he thought they were. He couldn't remember the last time that he'd washed them, and he'd worn them every day for years now. Maybe it was time for a wash before he condemned himself to wearing them forever- No, not forever. He wasn't going to do it again, so this was only temporary. They could still use a clean anyways, he figured, but the idea of exerting the energy necessary to do that drained him enough. Maybe another day.

Blue noticed his brother nervously glancing over towards him. It was fair, he supposed. Stretch hadn't seen him eat so… carelessly since… He was fine, though. He was just tired and didn't feel like cooking. Was that a crime? Still, with not a word said, Stretch remained concerned.

"So…" Stretch drawled. "How has work been?"

Blue could tell that he was trying to start a conversation and hesitantly obliged. "It's been alright, I suppose."

"What do you do as an apprentice cook?" he said with a dramatic flourish of his hands.

The other chuckled. "Not cook, that's for sure," he spat angrily. "All I do is sit and watch other people cook."

Some people might assume that that's melodrama, but, in this case, it's actually true. Blue had not once touched a cooking utensil in the entirety of the four months that he had been working there. From the time that he had applied and been to the interview, Blue could tell that it wasn't going to be the most… informative experience. The second he had walked into the building for his interview, he could see the way that the humans flinched at the appearance of a monster. Despite what many wanted to think, coming to the surface hadn't been all sunshine and rainbows. There was still a hefty amount of discrimination within some communities, and it would seem that one of those happened to be the culinary community. Lucky him. Due to discrimination laws or whatever sort of rewards they would get for hiring a monster, he was accepted into the position of "apprentice cook" aka "you're a cook on paper but don't actually get near any food". Hooray. Such fun.

Breaking him out of his bitter spiral, his brother spoke."Well, isn't that a part of the learning process?"

"Maybe," Blue admitted, "but how the hell am I supposed to learn if I don't practice what I see?"

"I guess you're right…" Stretch hesitated. "Are there any other monsters there?"

"Yeah, one other." Blue frowned as he thought of the other skeleton monster. "He doesn't seem to like me, though."

"Oh, yeah? What gives you that idea?"

This draws a scoff out of the other. "I've been working with him for three months now, and I still don't know his name."

"Oh." Stretch snickered slightly. "That bad, huh?"

Blue sinks deeper into his seat with a sigh. "You have no idea."

The monster was another version of himself, shockingly enough. They looked alike, more alike than any other version of himself that Blue had met. They had similar dress sense from what he could tell before they both had to change into their uniforms. Their eyelights were slightly different colors, though, and the other seemed to be more… pouty. The most obvious difference between them, however, was a shocking scar on the other's face. Blue couldn't help but wonder how he had gotten it. As fascinating as all of that was to Blue, however, his doppleganger didn't seem to want to have anything to do with it. He hadn't spoken to him at all since they'd first met except for when absolutely necessary.

After a quick glance at the clock, Blue realized that it was time to go and begrudgingly got up from the couch.

"Time to go already?" his brother asked.

"Yep," Blue mumbled.

He put his dish into the sink in the kitchen, resolving to deal with it later, grabbed a set of keys and walked towards the door, shouting a quick goodbye to his brother.

Once outside, Blue psyched himself up to walk the mile's distance between their house and his work. They only had one car, and, despite his brother's ability to shortcut, Blue had never used it, insisting that walking was "good for him" and that he was "happy to do it" so that his brother could use the car. Truthfully, he never liked when his brother shortcutted as it was never a sure fire method of travel. Sometimes, his brother wouldn't have enough magic to shortcut, or, sometimes, he didn't end up where he was supposed to. Blue would just rather be safe than sorry, he supposed.

He steeled himself with a smile, and began to walk.

_At least it's a nice day_, he thought.

It was a fairly uneventful walk, and there were hardly any people out. This is normal, of course, when you're walking to work at 8:30 in the morning. Being fairly fit, it took him about 15 minutes to get to his destination. The building was fairly nice, complete with a large sign out front to indicate the restaurant's name and an over-the-top red carpet leading inside. The shrubs outside of the windows were well groomed, and the glass doors were always clean. The kitchen wasn't nearly as nice.

Walking around to the side of the building, Blue slid his work ID card in the reader beside the door which unlocked it and allowed him inside the building. He was the first to arrive today, so, after setting down his things on a nearby table, he turned on the lights and deactivated the alarm system. Then, he went into the back room and placed his things into his designated locker after removing the apron and hat that was already inside. Why he had to wear a hat when he didn't even have hair he didn't know, but he didn't feel like losing his job, so he wore it anyways.

Blue removed his gloves and placed them to the side, not thinking about the marred bone that rested beneath them and flinching once he'd realized what he'd done. He silently thanked whatever gods he could think of that no one had seen, and quickly slipped his gloves back on. It's not like he was going to be cooking anyways.

"Morning," a voice called from the doorway, and, when Blue turned, he was greeted with the sour face of his other self walking into the room.

His heart jumped to his chest as he wondered how long his coworker had been in the building and whether or not he had seen Blue's slip. His mind was put to rest, however, when the other simply walked past him and deposited his things into his own locker. Blue began to walk out of the room, simply to get away from the other who didn't like him but was stopped when said monster spoke to him.

"Do you think they'll actually let us cook today?" he asked with a snort.

It took Blue a moment to respond as he tried to process that his oh-so-silent and moody coworker was starting conversation with him. "Uh… probably not," he managed.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," the other mumbled, fiddling with his own apron and cap. "As far as they're concerned, we're just here to make them look good."

Blue laughed a bit and nodded. "Right? We're basically just part of the decorum."

The skeleton snickered slightly and held out his hand. "You're another Sans, right?"

Shocked, Blue hesitantly shook his hand and smiled. "Uh, yeah! I am! People call me Blue, though."

"I see," the other put his hand to his face in thought. "I guess most monsters I've met have called me Razz, so you can do that, too."

Blue had to desperately try to hold a laugh back. "'Razz'?" he giggled. "Like, short for 'Raspberry'?"

Razz cocked his head to the side for a moment, a confused look on his face before his eyes widened and a bright blue blush spread onto his face. "If you ever call me that, then I will kill you."

Laughing, Blue held up his hands in surrender. "No, no! Don't be embarrassed! 'Blue' is short for 'Blueberry', if it makes you feel any better. But, uh, don't call me that, please."

"I'm definitely calling you that," Razz said with a laugh.

"Hey!" Blue fumed. "Then I'll call you 'Raspberry'!"

"Oh, no you won't!" Razz managed between laughs. "You're too nice! I've seen the way you let our human coworkers walk all over you!"

Crossing his arms, Blue stuck his tongue out at the other and frowned. "Oh, yeah? You don't really know me, _Raspberry_. I do whatever I want."

Razz leaned onto the nearby table, wheezing. "Sure you do, _Blueberry_. Sure you do. I'll bet you wouldn't stand up for yourself even if it would save your life."

With a frown, Blue realized that Razz was kind of… right. He let people do whatever they wanted without putting a word in edgewise. It was really something that he needed to work on. Not that he was going to tell Razz that, though. "If you think that, then you clearly don't know me," he snarled.

Taking a few deep breaths, Razz collected himself and gave a hum while he thought. "You're right," he admitted. "I don't really know you. I think I'd like to, though." He grabbed a rogue sheet of paper and tore off a corner, scribbling something down and handing it to Blue.

"Is that…?" Blue squinted at the numbers scrawled onto the paper.

"It's my number, dipshit. We're friends now."

Blue was confused for a moment before he broke into a smile, clutching the paper close.

"Oh. Okay."


	6. Bad Influence

The rest of the work day went by fairly fast, at least relatively. Considering that his shifts never consisted of cooking, they usually went by painfully slow, but, apparently, making a new friend makes days go by considerably quicker. The majority of the day was spent speaking with Razz or, more specifically, griping about the techniques of the so-called "professional cooks" working in the kitchen. They had found a dirty corner of the kitchen were they wouldn't get in the way but could still see everything.

"Ew. Look at the way that he stirred that batter!" Razz huffed, gesturing towards a nearby cook. "So clumsy. I'll bet that it's super lumpy."

Blue snickered and nodded in agreement. "Do you think he even mixed in the egg completely?"

"No way." Razz snorted. "He didn't even wash his hands. Disgusting."

"Wait, really?" He gasped.

"Um, hell yeah! Apparently humans haven't heard of hygiene." He frowned and slid down the wall he was leaning against. "I thought it was universal."

"Gross." Blue cringed. "And they keep us out of the kitchen?"

Suddenly, the other perked up, a devious smile spreading across his face. "We should report him to HR."

Bristling, Blue shook his head wildly. "No! He'll lose his job!"

"So?" Razz retorted. "He's probably spreading disease to all the customers. Isn't it our 'duty' or whatever to report him?"

"No, Razz! That's awful!"

The other chuckled softly, arms crossed. "You're no fun. I guess you're right, though. It's a pretty bad idea." Anger flared in his eyes. "We'd probably lose our jobs, and _he'd_ get promoted."

With a frown, Blue watched as said cook fumbled around the kitchen, nearly spilling another cook's stir fry. He could do better than that in a heartbeat if they would just give him a chance. Yet, here he was, watching the cook of century burn his cake as Blue sat in the corner pouting and making fun of him.

"You know what? You're right. Let's get him fired," Blue mumbled, drawing out a shocked noise from the other.

For a moment, Razz just stared at him, eye sockets wide, and then he broke into an indescribably wide smile. "Maybe you're more fun than I thought."

"So, do we go report him to HR, then?" Blue asked. He was shockingly excited to do something so devious. To give the cook what he deserved. Maybe he or Razz would finally get a chance once he was gone.

Razz snorted, placing a hand on the smaller skeleton's shoulder. "Absolutely not. We just went over that, remember? Bad idea!" He used his free hand to stroke his chin in an exaggeratedly devilish way. "No, no, what we'll do will be a much surer method of getting him fired, and no one will ever know that it was us." A pause. "If we do it right, that is."

"What are you planning?" Blue leaned closer, intrigued and terrified.

"What I'm planning, dear Blue, is indisputably genius and completely fitting of the Malicious Sans. He won't know what hit him."

"Okay, 'Malicious Sans', do you want to tell me or leave me waiting in suspense?"

Razz's face flushed, and he frowned. "Uh, yes. I'll tell you."

Blue snickered softly. "Go for it."

"So, it's simple, really," Razz began. "All we need to do is steal some things from his station and then wait until he gets accused of it. He'll for sure get fired for that." He gave a sly smile. "Easy peasy lemon squeezy."

The other pondered for a moment before responding. "I don't know, Razz. That sounds more like stressed depressed lemon zest," he said with a laugh. "Wouldn't they know that we're the ones stealing his stuff?"

"Oh, Blue," Razz cooed, putting a delicate hand on his shoulder once more. "Oh, young, innocent, Blue."

"We're literally the same age."

"Don't you know how to steal things?"

"Why the fuck would I know how to steal things."

"Stop interrupting me, I'm trying to teach you, bitch."

In response, Blue flipped him off but allowed him to continue.

"As I was saying," Razz said, sticking out his middle finger with a smile. "Stealing things is super easy if you know what you're doing, and, lucky for you, I know exactly what I'm doing." He held out his hands with a flourish and displayed Blue's phone.

"What the fuck?!" Blue exclaimed, snatching his phone back from the other. "_How_?"

"The magic…" Razz smiled, "of pickpocketing."

"Okay, but when did you even take it?" Blue asked as he checked his pockets to make sure nothing else was missing.

"When I had my hand on your shoulder and was talking to you, duh. You were so distracted that you didn't even notice."

"I wasn't that distracted!" Blue mumbled.

Razz shrugged. "You were distracted enough for me to steal your phone."

Sticking out his tongue, Blue relaxed, satisfied that all of his things were in place. "You have got to teach me how to do that."

"That was the plan, dumbass."

Lessons began that afternoon within the kitchen itself. As Blue found out, he wasn't very good at pickpocketing. His alternate insisted that it just took practice, but Blue was almost sure that he'd never get it down. The particular way that he needed to speak, create contact, and slyly steal something from within the person's pocket was extraordinarily difficult. It was fairly easy to get steps one and two down, but the actual physical process of taking the object from Razz's pocket seemed nearly impossible. After about _five-hundred_ or so attempts, Blue sank down onto the floor and sighed dramatically.

"That's enough butt touching for today, thank you," he said, exasperated.

"I don't like that you keep referring to it as that," Razz said, sitting down next to him. "You don't actually touch their butts, ya know."

"Maybe if you can do it right," Blue said with a laugh.

"Whatever. You'll get there eventually. Just keep practicing." Razz gave a reassuring smile.

"Maybe…" The smaller skeleton frowned and sank further into the ground.

Noticing his friend's deflated mood, Razz shoved Blue's shoulder softly. "Hey, let's leave."

"Leave?" Blue asked.

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

"Won't we get in trouble?"

Razz scoffed and crossed his arms bitterly. "As if! They probably don't even know that we're here."

Blue considered for a moment, but he knew that Razz was right. Aside from making sure that they had punched in and were present, they weren't told to do anything other than menial and unnecessary tasks that could be done by anyone. "Yeah, okay."

"Cool," the other said with a smile, gathering his things and heading to the back to take off his apron.

Blue followed close behind, untying his apron and removing his hat with a practiced precision. After he placed his phone on the table by the lockers, he neatly folded the clothes and placed them inside his locker, watching as his friend did the same, clothes in perfect squares, then grabbed his keys.

"You have a car?" Blue asked.

Razz gestured to the keys in his hand. "Obviously. You don't?"

"No, I do," Blue said. "I just let my brother use it."

"Ew, what a softie," Razz teased. "My brother can work until he can afford his own car, thank you very much. That lazybones needs to gain some sort of work ethic, and what better motivation than trying to avoid exercise?"

Blue stared at him, starry-eyed. "You're a genius."

"I know." He waved for the other to follow. "Now, come on. We only have so long to be out before 'work' is over and we have to take care of our lazy brothers."

They easily walked out the back door without drawing attention from any of the other workers and made their way towards Razz's car. Blue had offered to walk or pay for gas money, but Razz had simply scoffed and told him that driving him around was the least he could do when he was such a bad influence. That had gotten a laugh out of both of them, but they both knew that it was true. Blue certainly didn't mind, however. Sometimes, a little bad influence is just what a person needs. Besides, who knew when pickpocketing would come into handy? Aside from actually pickpocketing, of course…

"I know a really great place," Razz said as he started the car. "It's not too far away, either. Not to mention the exceptional service." He sighed dramatically, placing a hand to his forehead. "You just don't get that anymore."

Blue snickered and buckled up, frowning as the driver did not do the same. "Aren't you going to buckle up?"

"What are you? My mother?" Razz scoffed.

"No, but I _am_ concerned for your life."

Sighing, Razz reached across his shoulder and snapped the buckle into place. "There. Happy?"

"Very." Blue shot him a sugar-sweet smile. "Now, onwards, dear Raspberry!" he shouted. "The Magnificent Sans wants to eat!"

"You're such a fucking dork," Razz mumbled, but he smiled and put the car into drive, pulling out of the parking lot.

The car ride was filled with idle conversation, topics ranging wildly; nothing too meaningful, but nothing too boring, either. Once the streets became more and more familiar, however, Blue found it harder and harder to make small talk. He couldn't help the nervous bubble that formed in his non-existent stomach. The closer they got, the more afraid he became. He said not a word, however. All he could do was hope that they weren't going where he thought that they were. Surely it was just paranoia, he told himself. The chances of that were so ridiculously small, right? There was absolutely no way that they were going _there_.

When Blue's eyes were greeted with the familiar sight of wilting purple flowers and a warning sign that spoke as to how poisonous those flowers were, he knew exactly where it was that they were going, and he knew that it was the one place that he wanted to be the least right now.

Razz pulled the car into a nearby space and put it into park. "Here we are!"

Blue glanced upward and was greeted with an overly cheery sign that read: _Latte Lovers_.

"Welcome, Blue, to" _the cafe_.

That wasn't fair.

What had he done to deserve this?

He thought that he had been good.

He thought that he had been nice.

Why was this happening?

He was supposed to move on from all of that.

But, instead, he kept getting dragged back over, and over, and over again.

Until every little bit of himself that he's uncovered from the rubble is hidden under an avalanche once more.

"Uh, Blue?"

Razz's voice cut him out of his thoughts for the moment, and he vigorously shook his head.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Yeah, this is great."

The other's eyes darted away for a moment, his eyebrows creased. "Yeah… do you… want to go in?"

"Ah." He hadn't even unbuckled, it seemed. "Yes, let's go."

Once they arrived inside, Razz had claimed them a table by the window saying that "good views aided digestion". Blue was sure that he was simply trying to find a way to distract from whatever problem was currently taking place within Blue's mind, but the window seat simply provided him the perfect view of those purple flowers. The ones that always seemed to be in bloom no matter how deep into the winter it was. Perhaps that was just his imagination, however.

"Do you want anything?" Razz asked. "They have lots of interesting things that you could try. Do you need a-"

"Hot cocoa." Blue interrupted. "They have good hot cocoa."

For a moment, Razz seemed shocked, but he quickly pulled himself together. "Oh, so you've been here before?"

"A few times."

"I… Are you…?" the other hesitated, hand slightly outstretched. "I'll go get you some hot cocoa."

"Thanks."

It wasn't fair to his friend that he was having… a moment. He should pull himself together, and they should have a good time together. It was just a place, afterall. Did it really matter what had happened there before? Did it really matter what it stood for? Minds hold memories, not objects. Somehow, though, Blue couldn't seem to convince himself that it was fine. It was almost as if something bad was just waiting to happen. As if, at any moment, something would jump out from around the corner and yell "boo". Only, it wouldn't stop there. It never stops there. Not anymore.

Feeling a buzz in his pocket, Blue retrieved his phone and turned it on.

He was greeted with a text notification from a contact labeled: _Dust_.

Underneath said notification, read about thirteen others along with a few missed calls.

The text read: "Where the fuck are you?"

"Fuck," Blue squeaked.

Panic bubbled up within his chest, and his hands shook as he rushed to respond. He clicked on the notification and entered his passcode, bringing up the message menu. He typed furiously, nearly dropping his phone when Razz came back and spoke.

"I've got your hot-" he stopped when he saw the state that Blue was in. "Woah, what happened?"

"Nothing!" Blue blurted, hands still shaking. He took a stuttering breath. "Nothing, nothing. Everything's okay, I just need to text someone back, is all."

"Oh, that's all, is it?" a new voice sounded. It was gruff and pierced the tense atmosphere like a needle pierced a balloon.

Blue yelped at the sound, shutting his eyes tightly, but he said nothing.

"Who's this?" Razz asked softly. He gently pushed himself in between the new hooded figure and the shaking figure of his friend.

"I'm," said the voice harshly, "his fucking boyfriend. Who the hell are you?"

"He's just a friend, Dust!" Blue yipped. "From work! We're here for work!"

Dust pushed past said friend and slammed a hand onto the table. "From work? Work?! You're telling me that that's why you weren't texting me back?!"

"I'm sorry!" the smaller yelped, bringing up his hands slightly.

"You should be! I come all the way here because I can't find you _anywhere_ else, only to hear you talking shit about me! 'It's nothing'? Like hell it is! It sure as fuck isn't nothing to me!" Dust raised his arms and Blue flinched, but the two ended up in a tight hug with a silence that seemed to last just a little bit too long. "I was worried sick, you know," Dust whispered in his ear. "You weren't answering your phone. I had no idea where you were. I didn't know what had happened."

"I'm sorry. Sorry."

"It's okay, Blue. You're okay," Dust said with a squeeze. He slowly pulled out of the hug, holding the other at arm's length. "Please, though," he started, eyes narrow. "_Never_ do that again. I was _very_ worried about you."

"Yes, okay. I'm sorry."

Dust released Blue's shoulders and gave him a warm smile. "Well, I'll let you two continue your work, then. We'll talk later, Blue." Frost tinted his final words.

The smaller skeleton was unable to speak and simply waved shakily as the other left, who shot a final glare at Razz who had been standing by completely and utterly confused and terrified.

"What the fuck just happened?" Razz blurted as soon as Dust had gone.

Blue just shook his head, staring down at his untouched hot cocoa. "It was nothing," he said. "Don't worry about it. He was just worried."

As much as Blue wanted to believe those words, they sounded empty even as he said them aloud.

Razz carefully sat down in the chair across from his friend, holding a pastry but losing all appetite to eat it. "That sure didn't seem like 'nothing'," he growled. "That's your _boyfriend_?"

Blue nodded shortly.

"Why are you so afraid of him?"

"I'm not…"

"Bold words from someone who's still shaking like it's below freezing and you forgot a jacket."

"I'm not afraid! He can just be… intense… when he's upset."

"Okay, but, you know how unhealthy that is… right?"

Blue nodded once more. He refused to look up at his friend. "I know. I know it is, but he said that he changed. He promised me."

"What do you…?" Razz paused, holding back a grimace. "Blue, what happened? It's okay if you don't want to tell _me_, ya know, since we just basically met and all, but you need to talk to someone. Does your brother know?"

"No, no! It's fine!" Blue shook his head frantically. "He's different from how he was before! He went to therapy! He went to rehab! He's different!"

"Blue!" Razz said sharply. "That's not how that works!"

"He's different! He promised!"

"That's not how that works! He's hurt you, hasn't he?!"

"_What_?! Why would you-"

"I saw the way you flinched, Blue!"

"It was only one time, Razz! One time!"

"One time is one too many!"

"He would _never_ do it again!"

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do!"

"How?! How can you possibly know?!"

"Because he loves me!"

"If he loved you, then he wouldn't have done it in the first place!"

"It wasn't his fault!"

"How?!"

"I deserved it, okay?!"

"No, Blue! No one deserves something like that!"

"Well, I did! You don't even know what happened!"

"Then tell me!"

"I can't!" That was when the sobbing began, large, wet blobs concealing all vision. "I can't talk about it! Not again!"

Suddenly, Blue was engulfed into a hug, but this one was softer than before, more comforting.

"Listen," Razz said, voice trembling slightly. "No matter what you did, you did not- _do not_ deserve this. I want to help. I really do. I know that we just started talking, but I'm worried for you. You know what that's like, right? We're basically the same person, afterall."

Blue laughed wetly, leaning into his friend's shoulder gently which drew a smile from the larger skeleton.

"I don't want to pressure you," Razz continued, "but I really think that you should talk to someone. Clearly, this isn't the first time that he and you have had a… problem."

"He's a good person, I swear."

"I know," the other lied. "I know he is, but maybe he's not right for you. Sometimes that's just how relationships are."

Blue took a shaky breath before responding. "But… he doesn't have anyone else."

"You want to help him," Razz said with a nod. "I get it." He gently stroked his companion's head. "You can't help him, though, if you aren't healthy either."

There was a heavy pause.

"I can try, though… can't I?"

Razz snorted. "No, dipshit. You're gonna wear yourself out."

With a frown, Blue shoved out of Razz's arms, but he couldn't help the twinge of a smile that touched his lips. "You ruined the moment, asshole."

"Thank god, too!" the other laughed. "It was getting _way_ too serious."

"You're a fucking idiot."

"Yeah, well, so are you."


	7. Brothers

Blue arrived home at around five in the evening, completely emotionally drained. Razz had dropped him off even after Blue had insisted that he could simply walk. The other had hit him softly on the head and dragged him to the car with a frown. Without a doubt, Blue was extraordinarily grateful for the dumbass of a friend that he had. They'd only really known each other since that morning, but meeting another version of yourself probably makes it a lot easier to get to know someone. Afterall, they're you. They probably know things about you that _you_ don't even know. That said, they'll never know your _story_ until you tell them, and, as much as he loved Razz, Blue was not ready to spill all of that baggage onto him yet.

Ever since the bomb had blown up, everyone Blue had known had had a truckload of emotional trauma forcefully dumped on them. As much as he had wished to keep the situation private, it was difficult to do that when the case was forced to go to court. He had begged for the charges to be dropped, but, apparently, he had no choice in the matter, and, so, to court they went.

It had taken months upon months for Blue to come to accept that maybe (_just_ maybe) it had been for the best that the trial had happened. Maybe it was for the best that Dust had had to go to therapy and rehab. It helped him to be healthier, right? It helped him to cope. Besides, it wasn't like he had been in jail.

The progress that Blue had made trying to convince himself that what had happened was the right thing seemed to have been almost completely stripped away now.

Now, he was back with Dust.

Now, he knew how Dust _really_ felt about the therapy and rehab.

Now, he was afraid all over again.

Not afraid for himself, no, but afraid for Dust.

What would happen if Blue did something that happened to piss Dust off? What if Dust went into a fit because of something that Blue did? What would happen if they had to go to court again? What would happen if Dust was put in _jail_?

Flipping out his pocket knife, he began to click the blade in and out, the steady rhythm comforting him but not enough.

"Are you alright, Blue?" his brother asked, interrupting his thoughts. "You seem… nervous…" He gestured towards the pocket knife, and Blue quickly put it up.

"Oh, yeah, I'm alright," he stuttered out. He'd forgotten how uncomfortable his habit made his brother, but it was difficult to resist when his thoughts were swirling like they were now.

"Are you sure…?" Stretch insisted.

Blue thought back to what Razz had said before: that he needed to talk to someone about what was happening. The mere idea made his stomach clench and his eyes water.

For now, he decided, that was much too much. He couldn't do that to his brother, or, maybe more importantly, he couldn't do that to himself. Not yet.

Besides, nothing bad had happened…

Maybe talking about before… maybe that would help.

Maybe it wouldn't.

Either way, he knows that he has to say _something_.

He _has_ to.

"Uh, no, actually." Blue sighed, leaning back into his seat. "I'm kind of having a moment."

Remote in hand, Stretch turned down the television's volume, leaving the two chefs on the screen to scream at each other silently. The taller skeleton got up from his chair and settled next to Blue gently. He didn't sit too close or too far, waiting to gauge the situation.

"What's up?" he asked.

"It's just-" A pause. "I just…" A sigh.

"Hey, it's okay," Stretch encouraged with a smile. "Take deep breaths."

Blue inhaled sharply then exhaled slowly. He did this a few more times before he decided that it would just be best to get out with it.

"I can't stop thinking about Dust."

Immediately, Stretch stiffened, eyes widening slightly. He remained silent for a few moments, nervously fiddling with the television remote that was in his lap.

"Oh," he said.

Blue couldn't help but flinch at how scared he sounded. He knew that it was an incredibly hard thing for his brother to talk about, but, he supposes, not to what extent. While what had happened hadn't affected Stretch so directly, it had had an extreme impact nonetheless. At first, Stretch hadn't trusted Blue to go anywhere by himself. He hadn't trusted Blue with anything _remotely_ dangerous. He'd hidden Blue's phone for the first few weeks, saying that he didn't need to be exposed to anything that could "potentially hurt him more". Blue knew that he just didn't want him to see the endless barrage of messages that Dust was sure to be sending him. That was probably for the better.

Overall, though, it had been overbearing, unhealthy, and, above all, _annoying_.

There had been days where it really got to Blue, and he'd lashed out.

He'd said things to his brother that he would always regret.

He wonders if his brother ever thinks about the time that he said that he hated him.

He wonders if Stretch ever thinks about all the times that he blamed _everything_ on him.

He hopes that his brother has forgotten.

But there are some things that you simply don't forget.

"Yeah," Blue mumbled, looking away. He tiredly placed his head in his hands. "_Yeah_."

"What, uh," Stretch started, "what specifically are you thinking about?"

"Everything, I guess." He sighed. "Court's really sticking out right now."

"You mean being in court itself or…?"

"I mean the shit that lead up to it. Ya know, the cause of it all."

"Ah." He paused. "_That_."

"Yeah," Blue huffed. "_That_."

"Do you want to… talk about it?"

A bitter laugh drew itself out of Blue's throat. "You already know what happened. Do we really need to talk about it again?"

"That's not what I-" Stretch took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "_Yes_, I know what happened. You had to repeat it god knows how many times during the trial. I just… We never _really_ talked about it, you know?"

"What do you mean…?" Blue frowned.

The other placed a hand to his forehead. "I mean, I heard it over and over and _over_ again. You _said_ it just as many times, if not _more_, but we never talked about it together. One on one."

His frown deepened. "I-"

"I'm not saying that we have to," Stretch interjected, seeing the look on his brother's face. "I'm just saying that if you _want_ to talk about it, then we can. I'm here for you, and I want to help."

The decision wasn't immediate. In fact, it took a while for Blue to decide and even longer for him to voice that decision, but, even so, Stretch waited. He waited as Blue's brain had to go through the pros and the cons. He waited as Blue's brain drowned him in 'what if's. He waited as Blue's mouth was glued shut. He waited as the words refused to come out. He even waited as Blue anxiously clicked his pocket knife. The one that he, technically, wasn't supposed to have.

"Sure," he finally said, turning to look his brother in the eye. "Let's talk about it."


	8. Memory

The day had gone by as usual; Blue came home from work to he and his boyfriend's apartment, and Dust was nowhere to be found in any of the three rooms within it.

Their apartment wasn't small, by all means, but it wasn't exactly large either. It consisted of one bedroom, one bathroom, and a joined kitchen/living room combo. The bedroom was the smallest room aside from the bathroom, but it was big enough to fit their second hand double bed and a small dresser that contained both of their clothes. They never spent much time there unless they were sleeping, anyways.

When they _were_ asleep, Dust would typically spread out as far as he possibly could, leaving Blue with little to no room on the bed. It's a quality that would be cute if it didn't leave Blue to either wake up after falling out of the bed or having to sleep on the couch. More often than not, Blue ended up on the floor. He'd slept on their couch once, but Dust had been so upset by it… Blue had never meant to make him cry. He'd never slept on the couch after that night.

With a sigh, Blue set his phone down on the coffee table in the living room and settled down onto the couch. He grabbed the remote and began to flip through channels, not really processing any of them, the background noise enough to keep his mind from wandering but not to call his focus.

It had been a hard day and he was trying his best to ignore it, but it was incredibly hard when every time his thoughts drew away from the hardships of the day, his arms began to itch once more.

He worked at a coffee shop across the street from the library that Dust worked at. It was an incredibly nice shop and sometimes he got free hot cocoa. They had the _best_ hot cocoa. When Dust was on break once, Blue had let him try some. Dust didn't share his sentiments, apparently. Either way, it didn't matter. Blue liked their hot cocoa, and he loved working there. Of course, he didn't plan on staying there for the rest of his life. It was just a coffee shop, afterall. He hoped that it would be a stepping stone to a career in the culinary world. After maybe two months of working there, Blue had considered applying for a job at a nearby restaurant. They'd had a few jobs that'd been open for months, but apparently there weren't many people who were interested. Blue was sure that he could get one of the openings! When he'd offered the idea up to Dust, however, he was told that the job was too unstable, and it would be safer to stick with what he already had. Dust wasn't… wrong… he supposed. It's probably better that he stays. Besides, Dust would miss him if he left, wouldn't he?

Idly, Blue picked at a groove in his bone.

It was fine, he told himself. He was _happy._ _Dust_ was happy. Isn't that all that matters? Dreams were dangerous, anyways. They typically ended in chaos and broken hearts, and there was no room for that. Dreams, like feelings, were easily ignored with a little distraction. Distraction, while not _permanent _was exemplary at _temporarily_ removing symptoms, and if temporary distractions were used _constantly_, then it was basically permanent, right?

His arms itched.

Dust wasn't typically home when Blue arrived even though he got off work earlier than Blue did. Chances are he was out with his friends. That's where he usually was. They were probably at a bar, like usual. Probably drinking, like usual. Probably _drunk_, _like usual_.

Blue had gone out with friends after work once. He'd gone with Ink and Error to an art gallery, much to Error's dismay. Most of the art was completely incomprehensible to Blue and intolerable to Error, but Ink had gushed over how beautiful all of it was the entire time. After maybe thirty minutes of looking around, Error had grabbed Ink's hand and dragged him out, all while Ink was still ranting about how that _one piece_ from _three halls_ ago had perfect color composition. Honestly, Blue suspected that the only reason Error hadn't left sooner was that he enjoyed the happy look on his boyfriend's face. It had been really fun.

When he got home, however, it was _not_ fun.

Dust had immediately grabbed him by the arm and asked him where he'd been. Why wasn't he answering his texts. Why hadn't he been invited. Who was he with. Why hadn't he told him. Did he want him to worry. Does he have any idea what could have happened to him. Why did he _hate_ him so much.

There were tears that day.

Blue didn't go out with friends anymore.

His arms _itched_.

It was like a bug bite. The itch began once a bite was made. Once poison had been injected into his blood. Like a bug bite, once the itch was scratched, it only became itchier and more unbearable as more and more of its chemicals spread throughout his body. It made him want to scratch it more and more until his fingernails were caked with blood and the bug bite was an unidentifiable mess. He knows he shouldn't scratch it. He knows that it'll only make it worse. But the itch is so unbearable. Scratching it feels so good. It hurts afterwards. He regrets it. But, in the moment, he can't help but scratch.

That was what he found that it was like, anyways.

He's heard it's different for everyone.

Different but just as dangerous.

Danger was relevant, though, wasn't it? He hadn't died yet, so who was to say that it was really all that bad? It was _his_ body. Shouldn't he be able to do what _he_ wants to it? Why should anyone else get to decide what's wrong and right for him to do? He's not hurting anyone else, so who cares?

It wasn't that bad.

He was _fine_.

The gloves that he wore covered most of his arms. The material was soft and warm, and Blue often found himself rubbing the material between his fingers even when he didn't have them on. The material was _soft and warm_, and it made his arms _**itch**_.

Sighing, Blue turned off the television and threw the remote across the room. He'd hoped that the sound of the batteries clattering to the floor would help appease him, but he was left unsatisfied. The itch simply wouldn't go away, and he found himself getting up from the couch and beginning the routine. At a certain point, the action had become almost robotic, but Blue wasn't quite sure when it had happened. How long had it been? How many times had he done this same thing over and over and over again?

He wasn't sure. All he knew was that it was enough times. Enough times to know all of the steps. The same steps every time.

Step one: make sure that no one is home.

Blue carefully checked each room of the apartment. If anyone were to actually be in the apartment, he would look incredibly suspicious for poking his head in and out of room after room in turn. Luckily, though, no one was there except for him.

Step two: unhide the knife.

It was always kept in the bottom drawer of the dresser, underneath his clothes. He used to keep it on top of the dresser for easy access, but he'd found that alcohol and knives don't mix all that well. Nothing had happened, but things had gotten damn near close.

Step three: remove gloves.

Step four: stare at scars.

Step five: wonder if they'll ever go away.

Step six: think about what's happening.

Step seven: reconsider.

Step eight: wash knife and arms.

Now, this step was especially important to Blue. He took his time running the knife underneath the water, making sure that it was clean. The beautiful way that it shone under the harsh bathroom lighting was almost enough, but not quite. He took even longer with his arms, making sure that the water was scalding each and every time. Maybe, deep down, he hoped that the heat could satisfy him. Maybe, even deeper, he wanted to stall long enough for someone to stop him.

But no one ever did.

Either way, he liked to keep things clean. A clean knife and clean arms means a lowered chance of infection. A lowered chance of infection means less of a chance of people ever having to know.

And no one will ever have to know.

Step nine: …

That was his favorite step.

Step ten: regret.

It went the same _every_ _single_ _time_, stuttering breaths and angry sobs filling the emptiness of the apartment. There was never a moment when Blue actually felt satisfied with the choices that he'd made. There was never a moment when he was truly _happy_ with it all. All too often, Blue found his thoughts travelling to dark places. If only there were some way to undo mistakes. If only there was a way to make it stop. If only Blue could just _reset_.

Chara could reset, but they'd sworn to never use that damn button again. At the time, Blue had been happy. Now, he wished to start over more than anything else in the world.

Unfortunately, though, _this_ was reality, and it _always_ would be.

Blue choked back any further sounds and forced his eyes to look upon the damage. To see what had to be done before he could allow himself to fully be swallowed in his regret.

Along both of his wrists were a number of disgustingly jagged lines, blood gently creeping out of its hiding place. Small bits of white were freckled within its grasp, making it look like a morbid form of space. In some places, the red beaded. In others, it freely flowed. The pattern that it created was almost beautiful. _Almost_.

Sucking in a breath, Blue gently dragged a damp towel over his wounds. The liquid stung, but he ignored it. He pressed firmly, desperately hoping that when he lifted the cloth once more, the marks would be gone. Unfortunately, however, when his wrists were revealed again, the only thing that was gone was the blood that had been trailing down his arms. He studied the cuts a bit closer and decided that they had stopped bleeding enough for the time being. It was a good thing that his gloves were thick.

Slipping the blue material onto his hands, Blue jumped when he heard the sound of the door opening. He glanced at the bathroom clock and determined that Dust was home earlier than usual. It was about 6:30, only just getting dark outside. It was atypical for him to ever get home before well after 9:00. Perhaps this day could be salvaged, after all. For a moment, Blue took deep breaths, then steeled himself and went to greet his lover.

"Hi, Dust!" he called, trying to sound happier than he felt. Surely Dust had had his own troubles throughout the day. He deserved to see Blue at his best, so that was what Blue was going to try to give him. "Did you have a good day?"

In response, all Blue got was a grunt as Dust grabbed his arm and began to lead them both towards the bedroom. Blue's eyes widened, and he considered pulling out of Dust's grip. He pushed down the panic rising in his throat and tried to speak.

"What…? What are-?" he started.

"We're fucking." Dust interrupted. His grip only got tighter.

Blue flinched, immediately thinking about what he'd done just minutes before. "I- What- _Now?_" His arm stung in Dust's grasp.

The other nodded firmly. "_Now_."

"But… but what about… you haven't eaten yet, have you?" He desperately tried to think of an excuse.

"Not hungry."

"Yes, well, it's dinner soon, so I should _really_ start on din-"

Blue's words were cut off by a yelp as he was haphazardly thrown onto the hard bed, almost immediately being straddled by his lover. The look in Dust's eyes was almost animalistic, and Blue couldn't help the fear that tingled in his mind. He tried to sit up but was pinned back to the bed by his wrists.

"Blue…" Dust drawled, and Blue could smell the alcohol on his breath. "Oh, Blue… the only thing I want to eat right now, is you." He buried himself in Blue's neck, biting roughly.

This wasn't the first time that Dust had come home drunk and asked for sex. In fact, the first time that they'd ever fucked was in the car in the driveway after getting home from a _bar_. Blue had had to drive to pick Dust up because he was alone and too drunk to drive himself. Dust spent the entire ride thanking him for being such a good boyfriend and promising that he was going to pay Blue back for his help. Blue's idea of what that meant was apparently _very_ different from Dust's. It had been a long night. While that wasn't really Blue's picture perfect plan of how he was going to lose his virginity, it was good enough, he supposed. Dust wasn't _bad_ in bed, and Blue didn't particularly mind satisfying his partner. It was usually fine. It didn't usually matter. It mattered now, though. It _really_ mattered.

Shivering, Blue tried to pull away from Dust's incessant movements. "Dust, no-"

Dust shushed the small monster underneath him with a smile and began to pull off his hoodie. Blue couldn't help but flinch at the abhorrent number of scars that covered Dust's ribs and spine. It wasn't the first time he'd seen the carnage by far, but it never failed to shock and disgust him despite that. He flinched as he felt the hem of his own shirt begin to lift and squirmed.

"Dust, stop!" Blue commanded. "I don't want to-"

Suddenly, his breath was stolen by a desperate kiss, and he shook his head desperately underneath his stronger counterpart. His shirt was haphazardly thrown to the side as Dust slid his newly formed tongue into Blue's mouth. In a panic, Blue bit down hard, and Dust jerked backwards.

"_Ow!_" he slurred. "What the fuck was that for?!"

"I don't want to do this right now!"

Dust's mouth turned to a frown, and he groaned angrily. "Oh, come on. You know that you want this. You _love_ me, don't you?"

For a moment, Blue hesitated, mouth dry. "I… _yes_, I love you, but I-"

Unwelcomed hands crept towards Blue's crotch, and he gasped. An unfamiliar feeling grew in his stomach, and he couldn't quite pin what it was. He could feel his stomach bubble and turn, nausea rising steadily in his throat.

"Just enjoy it, Blue…" Dust whispered into his ear.

"Dust!" Blue almost screamed. He screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to stop the tears that were pricking at their corners from spilling over. "Stop that, you asshole!"

"Shut up and get naked." Dust's hands then made their way back up Blue's wrists. Their touches were soft and almost tender, but Blue just wanted them to go away. He just wanted to be somewhere else. _Anywhere_ _else_.

Before he could even react, Dust had yanked off and discarded Blue's gloves. That moment was the closest Blue had ever gotten to hitting someone with complete intent to hurt. For a few seconds, Dust didn't seem to notice Blue's marred wrists, but the second that he began to run his hands over what he was expecting to be smooth surface and felt something _rough_, the illusion was shattered.

All Blue could do was sit and watch in horror as Dust's eyes locked onto his wrists. A yelp filled the air when Dust roughly grabbed one of his lover's exposed arms and dragged it closer to view. His face was unreadable, but Blue could feel his hands shake from within his grasp.

"What's this?" was all he said.

Blue knew that Dust knew exactly what it was. He felt tears jump into his eyes once more as he desperately tried to think of something, _anything_, to say that would justify or excuse what he'd done, but he couldn't. "I… I-"

"You _what?_!" Dust shouted.

"Dust, I…"

"_Well?_! Spit it out!"

Bile threatened to spill out of his throat.

"_Tell me!_ _**Now**__!_"

"I- I don't-"

"_You_ did this, didn't you?! And you didn't even bother to _tell_ me?!"

"I didn't mean to-"

"What were you _thinking?_! Do you have _any idea_ what you've done?!"

"I'm sorry! I wasn't-"

"Do you have _any idea_ what you're making me do?!"

Blue opened his mouth to speak, but froze when he felt Dust's grip tighten. "What are you doing?"

"Teaching you a lesson." His hand tightened further.

"What do you…?" His voice was stopped when a tremor ran through his arm. "_Ow! _Dust, that hurts!"

"Isn't that what you want?"

Blue could feel the area around his hand already beginning to bruise, and he tried to push Dust off with his other hand. "Stop!"

Dust pinned down Blue's free arm with a knee, then grabbed Blue's wrist in another place with his other hand. The smaller skeleton tried to pull his arm out but stopped when a sharp pain spiked from within.

Grip only getting tighter, Dust clearly didn't have any intention of stopping or listening, and Blue didn't know what to do. First, he kept trying to pull and struggle at Dust's restraints. Then, he begged desperately for Dust to stop. At a certain point, he was certain that a string of apologies came out of his mouth, but he can't quite remember everything that he was sorry for. When that didn't work, all Blue could think to do was cry, but he didn't really have much of a choice as a sob ripped from his mouth.

Suddenly, Dust's grip loosened, but he didn't let go.

Blue's eyes darted across his boyfriend's face, looking at each feature and hoping to find some of the warmth that he knew they held but there was nothing there. Perhaps it was never there in the first place. He couldn't tell what his boyfriend was thinking, and it terrified him.

"Dust… Dust, _please_."

Dust glanced at Blue's terrified face, and their eyes locked. He adjusted his hands on Blue's wrist, running his fingers up and down the scarred bone. Dust's focus darted from Blue's wrist to Blue's face. He pushed into the grooves in the bone roughly. Another sob came from Blue as Dust touched a particularly fresh one. He could feel blood bubbling to the surface again from the rough contact.

After a moment, when Dust was sure that he'd felt every self-inflicted mark, he grabbed onto the two bones of Blue's marred upper arm, one hand wrapped firmly around the ulna and the other holding the radius. He yanked softly at the two parts as if considering.

Blue's eyes widened as he realized what Dust was going to do. "Wait, no. Don't. Please, don't."

The other yanked again but harder.

"No! Stop it! No! No! I'm sorry!"

Dust looked up once more.

"Please, no! I'm so sorry! I won't do it again! Please, just don't!"

His grip tightened. His arms tensed. His shoulders rose.

"No! No no no no _no!_ Dust, nO-"

But his words simply devolved into screams as his arm was shattered right in front of him.

The first pull didn't snap it, but he could feel the bone yearning to give out. Faithful to its owner, though, the bone remained intact.

The _second_ pull, however, broke him.

His vision went fuzzy.

He couldn't move.

All he could do was beg and cry and _scream_.

Dust released the shattered arm and grabbed the other one.

He was going to do the same thing.

Blue knew it.

He wasn't going to stop.

He wasn't going to let him go.

He was going to break him.

Dust was going to _break_ him.

A piercing scream ripped itself from Blue's throat, and that was when the police arrived.


End file.
